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[Jesus H Tapdancing Christ, Heather. The guy's just told you his actual family was involved in a cult and planned to sacrifice him, of course he's not going to want to play happy families with you. And it's not fair to ask people to try to fill that gap anyway. She rubs a hand through the back of her hair, huffs an attempt at a laugh.]

Yeah, you're right. It was -- I don't know, there's too much happening right now. It's turning me into a total girl. But I'm here. You know, if you ever need me, or whatever.

[He nudges her with his shoulder again.]

Hey. Nothing girly about wanting a family. I--maybe I'll. I don't know, I'll figure my head out, before I do anything. It's like a tornado hit whatever's in my brain, thanks to these last few years; just gotta sort it all out. But don't ever feel bad for offering someone something like a family, understand?

[He sits back and sighs.]

Since you were honest with me--can I tell you something? I mean, Murphy knows about some of it... [Annie did, too...] It's kinda heavy, but hey. I figure if we're talking about people trying to revive gods and cults and all that bullshit... I mean, I feel like it's something you should know, if you're willing to stick around me.

[Y'know. His time in a mental hospital. No biggie. Nope...]

[She nods. Appreciates his explanation all the more for the fact that he doesn't owe her one -- his feelings are totally understandable. When he continues, she rests her chin on her folded hand.]

You trying to outdo me, Shepherd? I should warn you, it takes a lot to rattle me these days.

[But it doesn't feel right to be glib about it, not when he's been so good about what she's told him. Not when he's opening up to her.]

Of course you can.

[He snorts.]

Dunno about outdoing anybody, but... If we're gonna be a big fucked-up group...

[He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he just scrubs his face with a hand and considers how to even begin. Heather wasn't a therapist. Heather was a survivor of that place. She got it. But this was... something different altogether. This wasn't Silent Hill that hurt him--it was the world. outside it.

He clasps the dog tags in his hand as he speaks.]

Before I came here... Before Silent Hill, I was institutionalized. Spent the last four years in a mental hospital, not even knowing I was there... Something happened back home and... I broke down completely. To tell the truth, I only just remembered everything that happened there.

[He leans into his arms, ears and face a little flustered. It's embarrassing, telling someone he'd been all wrong in the head. And may very well still be; he wasn't sure anymore.]

That place fucked me up really bad. So, I just...

[Words. Use them, Alex. He sighs.]

I'm scared that I might lose it, someday. I don't know... my brain's probably putty by now.

I don't wanna cause anyone trouble.

Edited 2012-10-06 10:14 (UTC)

[Her first instinct is to challenge that. He's not crazy. She's been through the hospital, read enough patient notes and collected enough journal fragments and seen enough terrifying love letters to know crazy, and Alex Shepherd isn't it.

But more than anything, she believes that people can change. That who you were doesn't dictate who you are or who you will be. So when he elaborates and curls over himself she aches for him, and her hand hovers tentatively at his shoulder before she decides to hell with it and lets it settle.]

We won't let you. We'll watch you and we'll make sure you're okay, and if something seems wrong we'll make sure you get help before anything happens.

And it won't be trouble, Alex. It'll just be friends looking out for each other.

I'd appreciate that a lot.

[Like her, he's immediately relieved when the other doesn't give a shit. Maybe he should expect it, but. He's told very few people about it. He's ashamed to think he'd ever went out of his mind like he had, even if there were a lot of years building up to that meltdown; he doesn't really figure in that it was long overdue.]

Just... wanted to give you the memo. That you have weird tastes in friends.

And since we both have a hate-hate relationship with the medbay. Even just sneaking in there to steal some pain pills freaks me out a little.

Hate-hate relationships are kinda my thing. Or at least hate-pretending to hate because it's easier.

[she has a hand on his shoulder still, and he hasn't flinched or moved away, so she squeezes. Like her dad did when he called her sport, like Tillman did when he called her kiddo.]

You know you don't have to steal them, right? I mean, it's gross in there, but some of the staff are pretty cool. A guy named Rory brought me a top-up on my sleeping pills once. And John Watson, he's good people. Takes a lot to throw him and he doesn't talk about you or try the whole comforting routine.

[Hate-pretending to hate. That makes him laugh faintly. Not really for any good reason—reminds him of some fucked up plot twists back home he some days wishes he could forget. But he's at least kept away from that line of thought by the mention of the medical staff. He considers it.]

... Guess if you say so. Don't think I'll need any pain pills for a while, anyway; I don't use 'em unless I really need to, so I've got plenty to last me.

But I'll drop one of them a line, if they can help out with... hospitalphobia. Whatever the hell it's called.

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